Meara Thorton was a feisty,
world-class computer hacker—cornered by the FBI and shockingly given the chance
to be their newly acquired technical analyst.Brilliant and intuitive, yet aching with the loss of everyone she has
cared about, her restless heart led her to discover a love she fought and a
world she didn't know could possibly exist.

Jace McKenna was an enigma, a loner,
impossibly handsome, sincere and committed. The Apache shapeshifter blood
running through his veins burned hotter than the blistering Sierra Madre sun.
Jace knew the moment he caught Meara's scent she was his for eternity.

Review:

Delane of Coffee Time Romance & More says:

"Catching Meara is a superbly written
mystery that draws readers in and makes them a part of the team. The characters
are vivid and provide a perfect canvas for the life of a unique team that
catches some truly nasty villains. Ms. Young provides a perfect blend of
paranormal, mystery and romance providing the reader an entertaining adventure."

Rating: 4 cups out of 5

REVIEW:

Manic Reader Review

Rating:4 1/2 stars out of 5

Reviewer: Alberta

Review:

Meara is a loner, content to spend
time with her computers, without the bother of having too many people around
her. When she turns from hacker to government computer specialist, she meets
Jace, who knows she is his mate, but all he has to do is tell her he is a
panther shape shifter and that she is destined to be his.

There is a lot of dodging bad guys,
dodging another shape shifter, and trying to keep secrets from each other. In
the end, Catching Meara is pretty entertaining, and I liked both characters,
despite Meara’s dysfunctional personality.

EXCERPT:

Meara
had been seconds from revelation, mere seconds. Now quivering with terror, she
huddled in the corner of her electrified office while lights flashed and popped
all around her, knowing there was no where to run. Monitors flashed and burst,
exploding and sending shards of liquid fire into the air. A cop entered the
small room, his arms stretched forward, gun in both hands and a flashlight on
top of his gun.

Three
more cops followed behind. No, they were government agents. The logo printed in
white across their chest announced their profession.

Bright
lights swept the room in a slow steady arc, searching for her. Finally resting
on her face, she shielded her eyes. Smoke from the crucified computers filled
the cubicle, making the agents choke. Sweat from fear beaded on her forehead,
and her heart lurched to her throat. She closed her hands over her heart as if
she could slow the furious beating.

"Hewitt,
check this out. There might be more than this one. Barrister go search through
the other rooms."

"Right,
McKenna."

"My
name is Jace McKenna," the man said as he approached cautiously, kicking
debris from under foot until he stood above her. "Put your hands in the
air."

His
voice held so much authority and sounded so calm. For a moment she thought he
meant to reassure then she remembered she was his prisoner. Well, she would be
as soon as she complied with his demands.

Jace
appeared dark, dangerous, handsome and tall, she noted at first. Very tall,
which was hard to miss, since she was skinny and short. His eyes were an amber
color with a hint of green. He towered over her. Beneath the deceiving
bulkiness of his bulletproof vest, she observed next, his shoulders were very
broad, and though his hips were lean, his thighs, tightly hugged by his jeans,
were muscled and powerful.

His
hair was blacker than the midnight sky, nearly indigo with its sheen, his amber
eyes were cast into a rugged face that appeared naturally tanned. He was
probably somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties. He seemed fierce,
alive with a striking tension and a volatile energy that seemed to exude from
him.

Shaking,
sweat dripping down her face, Meara slowly raised her trembling arms.
"D-don't shoot--me, please" She heard the pathetic whimper in her
voice as she blinked the stinging sweat from her eyes where it melded with her
mascara. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest she was sure it would
burst through her ribs.

"Stand
up, slowly." He swept the flashlight as well as the gun up and down the
length of her body, which had been curled into a tight fetal position.

Rising
to her feet, she leaned against the wall behind her, trying to keep her hands
up and not fall flat on her face. She wiggled her butt against the wall and
inched her way to a standing position. Her life flashed in front of her in a
series of leaps and bounds until she saw the faces of her parents.

"Do as he
says," they whispered. "Everything
will turn out fine. You'll see. We love you." Then, just as they appeared,
they vanished.

Their
faces faded into the smoke and flashing lights. Her eyes open wide, she gazed
at her enemy--her jailor. The man who was here to arrest her. Mind games, or
was it mind think that her parents used to play with her, teaching her to
communicate through thoughts instead of words. She focused on his brain,
sending out feelers, trying to read his thoughts and trying to tell him she was
no threat.

The
next moment he was beside her, grasping one of her arms, and in one swift move
he had turned her, both hands were behind her back and handcuffed. Her breath
stopped for a moment. The movement had been so sudden she was thrown against
the wall. Her face flattened on the smooth surface. Yet she was glad for that
because the impact brought her back to the reality of this moment. Her mind
cleared for a brief second. For courage she inhaled a swift deep breath.